The downs of loving two girls
by AlexiaPetty
Summary: After Cho Chang dies Harry has to decide whether he really loves Ginny.
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter was sure that everyone hated him. First off, Draco Malfoy had tried to steal his girlfriend and then he had killed her when she wouldn't go out with him. Admittedly, Harry and Cho Chang hadn't been getting on that well recently but that didn't mean that he didn't still think that she was ok. But recently most of their arguments had included the topic of Ginny Weasley. Cho was convinced that Harry had a crush on her. Well.. he did but he wasn't about to admit Weasely chose that moment to come around the corner. Harry had no idea how she always managed to come around the corner when he was thinking about her. It was like she was trying to make him like her.

Harry backed away. Ginny blushed when she saw him. "Erm, hi?" she said cautiously to him. Harry backed away from her, into the leaky cauldron. Ginny looked really sad. Harry was ignoring her. It was certified. Harry had dated Ginny in his sixth year but they still hadn't gotten together after the Lord Voldemort being defeated thing. Harry felt guilty as he pulled on his invisibility cloak. He did quite like Ginny. Cho had been right about that. He just needed a plan to make her love him, little did he know, Ginny was making plans also. This was going to be an interesting relationship.


	2. Chapter 2

Ginny felt along the wall to the small cranny where Harry was crouching. "Wacha Doin'" she said flirtatiously. She handed him a letter and then disappeared into the darkness. Harry opened up the letter and read:

 _Hi Harry,_

 _I have something to tell you. I have been in love with you for years .If you love me back ,meet me when you see me in 5 minutes. If you don't love me back shoot purple sparks up into the sky and yell:_

 _ **Tam o' Shanter (Original)**_

 _When chapmen billies leave the street,_  
 _And drouthy neibors, neibors meet,_  
 _As market days are wearing late,_  
 _An' folk begin to tak the gate;_  
 _While we sit bousing at the nappy,_  
 _And getting fou and unco happy,_  
 _We think na on the lang Scots miles,_  
 _The mosses, waters, slaps, and styles,_  
 _That lie between us and our hame,_  
 _Where sits our sulky sullen dame._  
 _Gathering her brows like gathering storm,_  
 _Nursing her wrath to keep it warm._

 _This truth fand honest Tam o' Shanter,_  
 _As he frae Ayr ae night did canter,_  
 _(Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses_  
 _For honest men and bonie lasses.)_

 _O Tam! had'st thou but been sae wise,_  
 _As ta'en thy ain wife Kate's advice!_  
 _She tauld thee weel thou was a skellum,_  
 _A blethering, blustering, drunken blellum;_  
 _That frae November till October,_  
 _Ae market-day thou was nae sober;_  
 _That ilka melder, wi' the miller,_  
 _Thou sat as lang as thou had siller;_  
 _That every naig was ca'd a shoe on,_  
 _The smith and thee gat roaring fou on;_  
 _That at the Lord's house, even on Sunday,_  
 _Thou drank wi' Kirkton Jean till Monday._  
 _She prophesied that late or soon,_  
 _Thou would be found deep drown'd in Doon;_  
 _Or catch'd wi' warlocks in the mirk,_  
 _By Alloway's auld haunted kirk._

 _Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet,_  
 _To think how mony counsels sweet,_  
 _How mony lengthen'd, sage advices,_  
 _The husband frae the wife despises!_

 _But to our tale:- Ae market-night,_  
 _Tam had got planted unco right;_  
 _Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely,_  
 _Wi' reaming swats, that drank divinely_  
 _And at his elbow, Souter Johnny,_  
 _His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony;_  
 _Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither-_  
 _They had been fou for weeks thegither!_  
 _The night drave on wi' sangs and clatter_  
 _And ay the ale was growing better:_  
 _The landlady and Tam grew gracious,_  
 _wi' favours secret,sweet and precious_  
 _The Souter tauld his queerest stories;_  
 _The landlord's laugh was ready chorus:_  
 _The storm without might rair and rustle,_  
 _Tam did na mind the storm a whistle._

 _Care, mad to see a man sae happy,_  
 _E'en drown'd himsel' amang the nappy!_  
 _As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure,_  
 _The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure:_  
 _Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious._  
 _O'er a' the ills o' life victorious!_

 _But pleasures are like poppies spread,_  
 _You sieze the flower, its bloom is shed;_  
 _Or like the snow falls in the river,_  
 _A moment white-then melts for ever;_  
 _Or like the borealis race,_  
 _That flit ere you can point their place;_  
 _Or like the rainbow's lovely form_  
 _Evanishing amid the storm.-_  
 _Nae man can tether time or tide;_  
 _The hour approaches Tam maun ride;_  
 _That hour, o' night's black arch the key-stane,_  
 _That dreary hour he mounts his beast in;_  
 _And sic a night he taks the road in_  
 _As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in._

 _The wind blew as 'twad blawn its last;_  
 _The rattling showers rose on the blast;_  
 _The speedy gleams the darkness swallow'd_  
 _Loud, deep, and lang, the thunder bellow'd:_  
 _That night, a child might understand,_  
 _The Deil had business on his hand._

 _Weel mounted on his gray mare, Meg-_  
 _A better never lifted leg-_  
 _Tam skelpit on thro' dub and mire;_  
 _Despisin' wind and rain and fire._  
 _Whiles holding fast his gude blue bonnet;_  
 _Whiles crooning o'er some auld Scots sonnet;_  
 _Whiles glowring round wi' prudent cares,_  
 _Lest bogles catch him unawares:_  
 _Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh,_  
 _Whare ghaists and houlets nightly cry._

 _By this time he was cross the ford,_  
 _Whare, in the snaw, the chapman smoor'd;_  
 _And past the birks and meikle stane,_  
 _Whare drunken Chairlie brak 's neck-bane;_  
 _And thro' the whins, and by the cairn,_  
 _Whare hunters fand the murder'd bairn;_  
 _And near the thorn, aboon the well,_  
 _Whare Mungo's mither hang'd hersel'.-_  
 _Before him Doon pours all his floods;_  
 _The doubling storm roars thro' the woods;_  
 _The lightnings flash from pole to pole;_  
 _Near and more near the thunders roll:_  
 _When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees,_  
 _Kirk-Alloway seem'd in a bleeze;_  
 _Thro' ilka bore the beams were glancing;_  
 _And loud resounded mirth and dancing._

 _Inspiring bold John Barleycorn!_  
 _What dangers thou canst make us scorn!_  
 _Wi' tippeny, we fear nae evil;_  
 _Wi' usquabae, we'll face the devil!-_  
 _The swats sae ream'd in Tammie's noddle,_  
 _Fair play, he car'd na deils a boddle._  
 _But Maggie stood, right sair astonish'd,_  
 _Till, by the heel and hand admonish'd,_  
 _She ventured forward on the light;_  
 _And, vow! Tam saw an unco sight_

 _Warlocks and witches in a dance;_  
 _Nae cotillion brent-new frae France,_  
 _But hornpipes, jigs strathspeys, and reels,_  
 _Put life and mettle in their heels._  
 _A winnock-bunker in the east,_  
 _There sat auld Nick, in shape o' beast;_  
 _A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large,_  
 _To gie them music was his charge:_  
 _He scre'd the pipes and gart them skirl,_  
 _Till roof and rafters a' did dirl.-_  
 _Coffins stood round, like open presses,_  
 _That shaw'd the dead in their last dresses;_  
 _And by some develish cantraip slight,_  
 _Each in its cauld hand held a light.-_  
 _By which heroic Tam was able_  
 _To note upon the haly table,_  
 _A murders's banes in gibbet-airns;_  
 _Twa span-lang, wee, unchristen'd bairns;_  
 _A thief, new-cutted frae a rape,_  
 _Wi' his last gasp his gab did gape;_  
 _Five tomahawks, wi blude red-rusted;_  
 _Five scymitars, wi' murder crusted;_  
 _A garter, which a babe had strangled;_  
 _A knife, a father's throat had mangled,_  
 _Whom his ain son o' life bereft,_  
 _The gray hairs yet stack to the heft;_  
 _Wi' mair o' horrible and awfu',_  
 _Which even to name was be unlawfu'._  
 _Three lawyers' tongues, turn'd inside out,_  
 _Wi' lies seam'd like a beggar's clout;_  
 _Three priests' hearts, rotten, black as muck,_  
 _Lay stinking, vile in every neuk._

 _As Tammie glowr'd, amaz'd, and curious,_  
 _The mirth and fun grew fast and furious;_  
 _The piper loud and louder blew;_  
 _The dancers quick and quicker flew;_  
 _They reel'd, they set, they cross'd, they cleekit,_  
 _Till ilka carlin swat and reekit,_  
 _And coost her duddies to the wark,_  
 _And linket at it in her sark!_

 _Now Tam, O Tam! had thae been queans,_  
 _A' plump and strapping in their teens,_  
 _Their sarks, instead o' creeshie flannen,_  
 _Been snaw-white seventeen hunder linnen!_  
 _Thir breeks o' mine, my only pair,_  
 _That ance were plush, o' gude blue hair,_  
 _I wad hae gi'en them off my hurdies,_  
 _For ae blink o' the bonie burdies!_

 _But wither'd beldams, auld and droll,_  
 _Rigwoodie hags wad spean a foal,_  
 _Louping and flinging on a crummock,_  
 _I wonder did na turn thy stomach!_

 _But Tam kend what was what fu' brawlie:_  
 _There was ae winsome wench and waulie,_  
 _That night enlisted in the core,_  
 _Lang after ken'd on Carrick shore;_  
 _(For mony a beast to dead she shot,_  
 _And perish'd mony a bonie boat,_  
 _And shook baith meikle corn and bear,_  
 _And kept the country-side in fear.)_  
 _Her cutty-sark, o' Paisley harn_  
 _That while a lassie she had worn,_  
 _In longitude tho' sorely scanty,_  
 _It was her best, and she was vauntie,-_  
 _Ah! little ken'd thy reverend grannie,_  
 _That sark she coft for he wee Nannie,_  
 _Wi' twa pund Scots, ('twas a' her riches),_  
 _Wad ever grac'd a dance of witches!_

 _But here my Muse her wing maun cour;_  
 _Sic flights are far beyond her pow'r;_  
 _To sing how Nannie lap and flang,_  
 _(A souple jade she was, and strang),_  
 _And how Tam stood, like ane bewitch'd,_  
 _And thought his very een enrich'd;_  
 _Even Satan glowr'd, and fidg'd fu' fain,_  
 _And hotch'd and blew wi' might and main;_  
 _Till first ae caper, syne anither,_  
 _Tam tint his reason ' thegither,_  
 _And roars out, "Weel done, Cutty-sark!"_  
 _And in an instant all was dark:_  
 _And scarcely had he Maggie rallied,_  
 _When out the hellish legion sallied._

 _As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke,_  
 _When plundering herds assail their byke;_  
 _As open pussie's mortal foes,_  
 _When, pop! she starts before their nose;_  
 _As eager runs the market-crowd,_  
 _When "Catch the thief!" resounds aloud;_  
 _So Maggie runs, the witches follow,_  
 _Wi' mony an eldritch skriech and hollo._

 _Ah, Tam! ah, Tam! thou'll get thy fairin'!_  
 _In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin'!_  
 _In vain thy Kate awaits thy commin'!_  
 _Kate soon will be a woefu' woman!_  
 _Now, do thy speedy utmost, Meg,_  
 _And win the key-stane o' the brig;_  
 _There at them thou thy tail may toss,_  
 _A running stream they dare na cross._  
 _But ere the key-stane she could make,_  
 _The fient a tail she had to shake!_  
 _For Nannie, far before the rest,_  
 _Hard upon noble Maggie prest,_  
 _And flew at Tam wi' furious ettle;_  
 _But little wist she Maggie's mettle -_  
 _Ae spring brought off her master hale,_  
 _But left behind her ain gray tail;_  
 _The carlin claught her by the rump,_  
 _And left poor Maggie scarce a stump._

 _No, wha this tale o' truth shall read,_  
 _Ilk man and mother's son take heed;_  
 _Whene'er to drink you are inclin'd,_  
 _Or cutty-sarks run in your mind,_  
 _Think! ye may buy joys o'er dear -_  
 _Remember Tam o' Shanter's mare._

 _into the night. For no reason other than, I want you to make a fool of yourself._

 _Love Ginny._

Ps: If you throw away this letter I will be so annoyed as it took ages to copy out that poem from a muggle book.

Harry ran into the next alley and bumped into Ginny. She thought that he was going to recite Tam o' Shanter to her but to her surprise and joy, He kissed her. She almost felt like singing and then singing "Its' a beautiful day". Ron and Hermione ran away to vomit. The two love birds were in bliss.


End file.
